


Russian Roulette

by 1JettaPug, orphan_account



Category: KISS (US Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cock Rings, Explicit Language, M/M, Maids, Master/Servant, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22820461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1JettaPug/pseuds/1JettaPug, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Paul gets to see another side of Tommy when he becomes his maid for the weekend.
Relationships: Paul Stanley/Tommy Thayer
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Russian Roulette

“This is so embarrassing,” Paul muttered, tugging down on the black and white dress. Its skirt was so short, it hardly left anything to the imagination.

Tommy chuckled, “You’ll get used to it. Besides, I think you look lovely. Very cute.” He pressed a kiss against his bandmate’s neck before wrapping a thick black collar around it.

Paul swallowed. The tightness of the collar sent a shot of arousal to his cock. Humiliation quivered in the pit of his stomach. He crossed his legs, the black fishnet stockings rubbing against his skin as he continued to pull down on the dress, on the apron, feeling far too exposed. It was funny considering he’d pranced around on stage for decades half-naked, even stripping off his costumes in the middle of performances, but _this_ was where he drew the line. Sometimes he wondered how Tommy managed to talk him into these kinds of outfits in the first place.

The lead guitarist gave him a little shove, causing him to lose his balance and wobble on his bright red stilettos. They were certainly not the thick platform heels he was used to. Paul fell onto a nearby chair, legs spread and ruffled laces flying everywhere. “T-Tommy!”

Tommy simply smirked, Paul barely suppressing a shudder at the dark lust in his hazel eyes. He recognized that look, it was the same one his bandmate wore every time they got together like this, the same look when he first called Paul up and invited him over for the weekend, saying Amber was out of town visiting family.

Paul could feel the full weight of Tommy’s stare as his eyes roamed up and down his body. He leaned down, hands gripped on each of the armrests, and pressed a hungry kiss to Paul’s lips. The frontman opened his mouth without complaint, allowing Tommy’s tongue to slide right in.

“This weekend you’ll call me ‘Mr. Thayer.’” He ordered as he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting them. “Do you understand, my little maid?”

Paul nodded, flushed and breathless.

Dropping to his knees, Tommy’s head vanished under the dress. He gently moved his lacy thong to the side, releasing Paul’s leaking erection. Paul arched forward, a guttural moan rumbling in his throat as Tommy’s tongue swirled around the base of his cock. He felt his large, talented hand pumping up and down his shaft as a practiced finger probed at his hole, dipping in and out.

“Ah- _Ahhh_ , T-Tom- _Mr. Thayer!”_ Paul moaned, placing a hand on his shoulder to stabilize himself. His head spun from the sudden stimulation, his thoughts vanishing into nothingness until he could only focus on Tommy's tongue. That skillful tongue, those rough calluses from years of guitar playing scraping against his skin, and that long finger, thrusting in and out. He could hardly catch his breath.

The finger withdrew, and Paul whined loudly. He wanted all of his bandmate, wanted to desperately feel that sweet stretch and burn from taking him raw.

Paul bucked his hips, but Tommy held him in place, pinning him to the chair. He just needed some motion, some rocking, _anything_.

All he got, though, was a ring wrapped around his aching cock, locking the pressure down. “Mr. Thayer…!” Paul gasped, the edge of pleasure fleeing from him. 

Tommy laughed, pressing a light kiss against Paul’s quivering lips and ignoring that desperate look in his eye. “If you finish cleaning by the time I’m done with some work in my office, we’ll finish this little game. You have to wash the dishes, mop the hallways and dust the shelves in the living room.”

Paul whined in disappointment, earning a chuckle from Tommy. “Don’t worry, you don’t even have to sweep the kitchen. I did that earlier.”

“M- Mr. Tha--”

“Hush.” Tommy snapped, locking eyes with him. “I was talking.” Paul swallowed, casting his eyes down onto the frilly lace of his dress. For such a soft spoken person, he never expected Tommy to be able to conjure up such a hard, cold tone. “Now, no touching yourself until I get back down here. Understand?”

The Starchild nodded.

Tommy rose back up to his full height and turned on his heel, fixing his tie in place and leaving Paul hot and bothered. He sprawled out on the chair, his cock aching, straining and begging for release, and all he could do was let out a frustrated groan.

The frontman took in a few deep breaths, willing his heart to calm down and stop beating like a bass drum. He whined at the sweat rolling down his face, only imagining how much sweatier he was going to get after doing all these chores…

At least cleaning would serve as a distraction. He rested a hand over his eyes. He couldn’t believe he’d actually agreed to this insanity. The sex better be worth it, he thought silently, if he was going to get any sex _at all_.

Paul took in a few gulps of air before he finally stood up, balancing precariously on the red stilettos and cursing when they pinched down on his toes.

God, how long did he have to wait until Tommy returned and finished him off?

By the time he reached the kitchen sink, Paul swore he could feel blisters forming on the back of his heels. He sighed. It was _nothing_ compared to his stiff neglected cock, though.

He reached out, fumbling to turn on the faucet, then splashed his face with water. The coldness tingled on his flushed skin as he grit his teeth and grabbed the yellow sponge and soap. There were only a few dishes to be washed. He could do this. He could definitely handle mopping and dusting, too. He just had to not focus on his dick slapping against his belly, hard as a rock.

Paul’s arms ached like holy hell after almost an hour of mopping. Tommy’s house felt like a mansion, the hallways never ending and the rooms the size of Madison Square Garden. He wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist with an exhausted sigh. All he had left to do was dust the shelves in the dining room, then Tommy was all his. Piece of cake.

The glass cabinet was filled with all different kinds of fancy dishes and silverware, things that looked almost untouched and could be easily broken if not extremely careful. Paul held his breath as he dusted between them, careful not to make any sudden movements or trip himself up.

As he worked on the second shelf, his mind began to travel elsewhere. The band’s upcoming trip to Japan, how he was going to maintain his diet while there, trying to keep Eric out of trouble and Gene from making any ridiculous business deals... Even after 45 years he was _still_ playing mother hen.

He stood on his tiptoes to reach the top shelf, pushing himself too far and stumbling on his heels. Paul gasped when the duster bumped into a row of plates, knocking the first one off of its rack and falling to the floor below with a loud smash.

“Oh fuck… Oh no…” He panicked, staring down at the shards of glass scattered around him. Maybe Tommy didn’t hear it, he thought, but the footsteps coming down the stairs quickly told him otherwise. The distressed guitarist felt as if he were playing a game of Russian roulette, and he had just spun on a losing cylinder. He’d just shot himself in the foot and he’d have to face the consequences.

"God damn it... _God damn it!_ That was fine fucking china! Look at the mess you made, you clumsy cunt!" Tommy snapped, throwing his glasses down on the dining table.

“But, sir! It was an accident! I- I’m so sorry... Is there any way I could make it up to you?”

"Make it up to me!?" The Spaceman scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. "That _one_ plate cost more than your skimpy little outfit, you slut!"

"B- But, sir--"

"Shut up and clean it up!"

"Y- Yes, sir..." Paul blushed, rushing to grab the broom and dust pan. He came back around the table and stood before Tommy, glancing at him briefly before bending down.

"Clean it, bitch." Tommy growled, folding his arms impatiently. He’d never called Paul any names before. He would never _dream_ of insulting him like that. At first, he wasn’t even sure he could do this, but with time, he was beginning to become more comfortable in his role as the Starchild’s master. Paul wanted it to be believable, after all.

“You missed a spot. Don’t make me angry, you dumb skank.”

Paul obeyed. As he swept up the glass, he began to subtly move his ass from side to side, exposing his lacy thong again, feeling Tommy’s eyes burning into him. Likewise, Paul wasn’t confident in his roleplaying skills in the beginning, but what he _was_ confident in was his expertise in temptation. He knew all the ways to push someone’s buttons and drive them insane with lust.

"I'll clean it all up, sir. I apologize, Mr. Thayer. It won't happen again."

"It better _not_ fucking happen again!" Tommy snapped, reaching down to grab Paul's ass under his dress. "Your ass is gonna be beaten black and blue if I fucking see that that plate scuffed up my floor."

Paul’s heart began to race. Just hearing Tommy talk so obscenely, so rudely… It made the hairs on his arms stand up. All he wanted was for the Spaceman to take him on a wild rocket ride and finally send him over the edge.

“I bet you’d like that though, you little whore. I bet you’d enjoy me slappin’ your ass till it turned red...”

The rhythm guitarist felt the ring around his cock painfully holding him back from release as he scooped up the last of the glass, nervously looking on the floor for any scuffs. He wondered if Tommy could actually lay a hand on him, even in the bedroom when Paul had asked for it. He was always so gentle and kind. He wondered if Tommy had a single violent bone in him.

He suddenly felt something hard pressing into his ass. Something long and hard. “You know what happens to maids who don’t do what they’re told?”

"W- What happens?" Paul stuttered, feeling the blush darken on his cheeks. He bit his lip and held back a moan as Tommy's hand slipped from his ass to his side. He pulled him back against his crotch, and Tommy smirked at the little squeak he managed to pull out of his pretty maid.

"They get taught a lesson.”

“I- I’m sorry, Mr. Thayer…! I’ll make it up to you! I- I’ll do anything!”

“You’re not fucking getting out of this, bitch.” Tommy growled. He grabbed Paul’s wrist and turned him around, causing him to drop the dustpan full of broken china. Paul winced when it ended up scattered back on the floor again, only shattering into more tiny pieces.

“I- I’m sorry, Mr. Thayer,” Paul tried to apologize like a broken record player, his eyes already watering.

“You’re pretty fucking useless today, aren’t you?!” Tommy raised his voice, making Paul flinch. “I think a punishment is in order. You obviously need some sort of discipline to set you straight, you damn airhead.” He released Paul, who clung to the kitchen island for support. “Go upstairs to my bedroom and take off those heels before you break your damn feet in them. I need to set you right, you little slut.”

With a curt nod, Paul dashed past him and headed to the stairs, avoiding his eye the entire time. He got to the master bedroom and kicked off the heels as he was ordered, feeling little relief. He’d been a horrible maid to his master, and he deserved whatever Tommy came up with to discipline him.

No sooner had he walked to the edge of the bed was Tommy behind him, shoving him onto the sheets and forcing his face down into them. He lifted up Paul’s dress, leaving a solid mark on his ass with a loud spank, making Paul yelp.

“You’ve been such a shitty ass maid!” Tommy scolded, spanking him again. “Do I have to hold your fuckin’ hand the whole time, you good-for-nothing whore? I’m disgusted!” Another spank, the hardest of all them, sent tears streaming down Paul’s cheeks and an erotic ache to his cock. He bit his plump bottom lip to stop any moans from escaping, fearful of what Tommy might say or do. “I know you’ve been greedy for my cock, but why the fuck should I even give it to you?”

“I- I want it! I want _you!_ Please, Mr. Thayer!” Paul stuttered, sniffling. “I’ll do my best next time!”

“God, there you go, assuming there’ll be a next time. You’re just lucky I keep you around, you fucking slut. If you didn’t have such a tight little hole then I would have fired you _months_ ago!”

“P-Please…!”

“For fuck’s sake. My cock is the only thing that motivates you?” Tommy huffed, yanking Paul’s head back by his hair. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Taking it in the ass is the only thing you’re not fucking useless at!” He could perfectly see the frontman’s teary brown eyes and red face. “Beg for it, then. Show me how cock-hungry you are, and I might just fucking give it to you.”

“I- I want it, Mr. Thayer! Please! _Please_ , I want it!” Paul lowered his head, crying. He reached back with one hand, grabbing a handful of his ass. “I want all of you inside me!”

Tommy burst into laughter. “How cute. My little maid pathetically begging for dick.” He started to unbuckle his belt. “Well, too bad for you, slut, you’ve been _very_ bad. I think I’ll go without any prep. Let’s hope your delicate little ass can handle it. Now, get into position!”

Paul gulped, but he obeyed, shifting onto all fours. He raised his ass up before continuing to beg. “P-Please…”

“Good boy.” Tommy stroked the side of his face. “Finally you’re fucking listening…” The head of his cock prodded Paul’s entrance, but he decided to stop and stroke himself, grinding the frontman’s ass against him. A generous amount of precum slowly surfaced, and he smeared it on Paul’s hole. “Such a slut…” Tommy dug his fingers into Paul’s soft skin, spreading his cheeks apart. Slowly, he entered him, relaxing as he listened to his rhythm guitarist’s small, high-pitched cries.

“M- Mr. Thayer…!” Paul clawed at the bedsheets as the lead guitarist went slow and steady, helping his partner adjust to the stretch. Tears stained the pillow beneath him, but Paul didn’t protest against any of it. He took it all, took the pounding as Tommy began to thrust into him a little harsher with every passing second, groaning and smacking his ass.

Paul’s quiet moans grew louder when Tommy pulled his hair back, fully penetrating him. He struggled to get any words out, instead moaning like a cat in heat.

“S-shut up, you whiny bitch!” Tommy snapped through his own groan. “I don’t wanna hear another squeak outta you without permission! Got it?!”

Paul nodded, forcing himself to bite down on the pillow as more tears stung his eyes. He gasped when Tommy suddenly decided to pull out, almost opening his mouth to complain, but he quickly managed to hold back and stop himself.

“Betcha want that ring off, right?” Tommy smirked.

Paul nodded, biting down harder.

“What the fuck, why not? You’ve been a halfway decent fuck so far today.”

Paul felt his legs shake as Tommy reached down and removed the ring from his shaft. “Maybe you aren’t so worthless after all...” He chuckled as saliva dribbled out of Paul’s mouth and onto the pillow. All of the pleasure suddenly shot to his cock, and no matter how hard he tried, the Starchild couldn’t help but hold back a loud, desperate whine.

Tommy thrusted back into him wildly, using the springiness of the bed to guide him and pull his bandmate’s ass up higher. Paul could almost feel sparks with every drive forward, his eyes rolling back into his head. He couldn’t last another second, ejaculating right away, a small drivel that just kept coming as his master’s cock continued to mercilessly beat into his prostate.

When he felt Tommy begin to tense up, Paul used the last of his energy to gyrate his hips, tightening around the lead guitarist’s member as he tried to squeeze out every last drop of semen.

“A- _Ahh! Fuck!”_ Tommy groaned, closing his eyes as he rode out his orgasm. “Y- You greedy bitch…!” He smacked Paul’s ass and thrust one last time, beginning to soften up. “ _God_ … You’ve made such a mess…” Paul’s whole body shuddered as a finger brushed against his rose tattoo. He whimpered when Tommy finally pulled out, feeling warm, thick seed drip down his hole and thighs, ruining his maid dress and panties.

The spaceman took a peek down at him, smirking. “Well, guess who has to change the sheets…”

Paul’s eyes shot open, and he flopped over onto his back. “Oh you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me… Fuck you, Tommy…”

“I’m joking, I’m joking!” Tommy laughed, his eyes and mouth softening back into that kind expression. He leaned down and nuzzled his lover right under his chin. “I’ll get it later, starshine. Oh, and the plate downstairs, too. Can’t forget about that.”

“You didn’t say anything about me doing your damn chores…” Paul grumbled, lifting his hands up to rest them on Tommy’s shoulders. “I mopped for you… I _mopped_ , and you fuckin’ _spanked_ me…”

“Well, you did a great job.” The lead guitarist smiled, peppering soft kisses along Paul’s jawline, “You’d make a perfect little wife. Now you hop in the shower and I’ll make us some dinner.” After one last smooch, Tommy left the bedroom, and Paul’s frustration quickly turned into a warm smile. He giggled, shaking his head.

He’d hit the jackpot with this guy.


End file.
